


oceans won't freeze (so loosen your heart)

by sad_robots



Category: All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket, Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, aziraphale and crowley go to stain'd-by-the-sea, look i realize this is a very niche fic but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, perform lots of minor miracles and also finally get their shit together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_robots/pseuds/sad_robots
Summary: "Really, angel? Ethics? I don't think it's evenpossiblefor you to do evil.""You've mentioned."---When Aziraphale and Crowley go to Stain'd-by-the-Sea after the apocalypse is averted to get away from the city (and their respective head offices), they definitely don't plan to get caught up in the town's latest mystery. But supernatural beings are bound to attract someone's attention in such a small town, especially when sinister things are going on...***currently on hiatus***
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I wasn't going to write this fic but it simply wouldn't leave me alone. It's been a few years since I read All the Wrong Questions in its entirety, but I've been reading it to my grandmother over the phone recently (we're in the middle of the third book rn) and I just finished watching Good Omens a couple of weeks ago. I seem to have developed a very strong affinity for outsider pov fics where people see Aziraphale and Crowley and wonder what the hell is going on with them, and this just sort of.... happened. I hope you enjoy =)

It was early on a Wednesday morning when I walked into the library. I had just finished reading a book about a group of precocious children working to defeat an evil genius, and it hit a little too close to home. I was looking for a new book to distract me. When I entered the library, I was greeted by the familiar sight of Dashiell Qwerty, the sub-librarian, in the middle of an ongoing battle with his archnemeses: moths. I said hello and made my way through the shelves, looking for something to take my mind off everything that was going on in this dying town. Eventually I settled on a book about children who could turn into animals, and sat down at a table to read. 

I got to the bit where the children find out that people they knew were being controlled by aliens before shutting the book. Sometimes it felt like the adults in my life were being controlled by aliens, or that they might as well have been, and I decided that this book was also a little too similar to my life. I had just put it back on the shelf and was browsing for another book (preferably one that did not involve children doing all the work while adults were generally incompetent) when the door to the library opened and two men walked in. This in itself was not unusual. What  _ was _ unusual was that I didn’t recognize either of them. One was tall and lanky, dressed all in black and wearing round sunglasses that he left on, even once they were inside. The other was shorter, and looked like he had just stepped out of a period drama. He was dressed in much lighter colours, and standing next to each other the contrast was almost comical.

I looked back at the shelves, pretending that I wasn’t interested in what these eccentric strangers were doing in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. Thankfully I have better eavesdropping skill than Prosper Lost, and neither of them seemed to care that I was there. The tall one swaggered over to the history section and sighed loudly as he flipped through a volume on the Reign of Terror, while the shorter one nodded and smiled at Qwerty in greeting before walking over to the 170s. His companion saw what he was doing and groaned.

"Really, angel? Ethics? I don't think it's even _possible_ for you to do evil."

“You’ve mentioned,” said the man (Was his name Angel? Was it a pet name?), looking over and noticing the book his friend (Partner? Husband?) was holding. “Why are you reading a book on the Reign of Terror, Crowley? You know what happened, we were there,” he said, turning back to the books.

“I don’t read,” Crowley grumbled, sliding the book back onto the shelf in entirely the wrong place and slinking over to stand next to the other man. “Haven’t noticed any dark feathers, have you angel?” 

His voice was so low that I had to strain to hear. I edged a little closer under the pretense of looking at the Public Finance section. 

“No, I haven’t. And I don’t particularly care to, if it’s as bad as you say it is.” 

“There are worse things.”

They were both unnaturally still. The silence dragged on, heavy with the weight of whatever it was they were talking about. I decided that they must be talking in some kind of code. After what felt like months, Crowley spoke again. 

“C’mon, Aziraphale. We can come back later- ‘s not like you can take any books anyway.”

Aziraphale nodded, but stood staring at the books, apparently lost in thought until Crowley knocked his shoulder gently. He started, and then followed him out of the library, thanking Qwerty and saying they’d be back sometime. I counted to 10 before leaving as well, and as I passed the front desk I noticed a mysterious absence of moths. 

Once I was outside, I slipped behind one of the pillars and watched them. They headed down the street towards the Lost Arms and I waited until they were inside before walking briskly after them. I walked up the steps and pushed open the door. Inside, the lobby was grimy as always. The men stood at the counter. Actually, stood was quite a generous word for what Crowley was doing. He was leaning on the desk in such a way that I was quite surprised that he hadn’t fallen over yet. Prosper Lost also looked surprised, and like he was trying to hide it. He wasn’t doing a good job. The only person who didn’t look surprised was Aziraphale, who seemed to think that such gravity defying tricks were par for the course, a phrase which here means something that is not unusual at all. Maybe he was right. 

I strolled over to the tiny table next to the couch and grabbed a handful of the dusty peanuts. I sat down on the couch and ate them rather reluctantly while staring at the statue and listening in on their conversation.

“-how many rooms will you be needing?” Prosper Lost asked. 

“Just one, thank you,” Aziraphale said. Crowley leaned back even further on the desk, turning towards Aziraphale and raising an eyebrow.

“And how many beds?” Prosper Lost continued, with undisguised curiosity

“One,” Aziraphale said, oblivious to the way Crowley’s eyebrows had all but disappeared under his hair.

Prosper handed him two keys. “How long will you be staying?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley questioningly. Crowley looked like he was rolling his eyes under his glasses. 

“An indeterminate amount of time,” he said, and took one of the keys from Aziraphale.

“Your room is on the second floor. Second to last door on the right. Enjoy your stay,” he said obsequiously.

Crowley pushed himself up off the desk in one languid motion and grabbed a duffel bag from the floor. I was completely certain that neither he nor Aziraphale had had any kind of luggage back in the library, but that apparently wasn’t stopping him. They walked toward the stairs and I finished my peanuts to give them time to get to their room before heading towards the Far East Suite. Naps were more Theodora’s area, but she was out investigating something or other and after this morning I rather thought I could use one.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley get breakfast and meet some of the residents of Stain’d-by-the-Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to preface this by saying I'm SO SORRY about how long it took to post this chapter. I've got the rest of this fic outlined now though so this will probably update faster and more regularly. 
> 
> I've decided that the chapters are going to switch between Snicket’s POV and third person limited (sort of), because I needed a way to show what's happening to Crowley and Aziraphale when he's not there.
> 
> I forgot to mention when I first posted this, but the title is from Ageless Beauty by Stars. I hope you enjoy this chapter =)

“Finally succumbed to my wiles?” Crowley said, smirking at Aziraphale over his sunglasses as he carried their duffel up the stairs. And Aziraphale actually _blushed_. 

“If you don’t want to share a room I can-”

“It’s fine, angel, it was just a joke,” he said, feeling just a touch bad about putting Aziraphale on the spot. Ever since the apocalypse it had been rather… tense, between the two of them.

They continued up the stairs in silence. When they got to the room, Aziraphale unlocked it and Crowley followed him inside. The room was spacious enough, with a king size bed against one wall, a desk, and a couple of armchairs. There was a bathroom to the right of the door, and a window directly across the room such that the morning light streamed into the hallway while the door was open. Crowley dumped the bag on the bed and flopped down next to it. Aziraphale stared at the bag in confusion, only just registering it properly. 

“What’s that?”

“‘S luggage, angel. Humans get suspicious if you just miracle clothes up all the time.” 

Aziraphale frowned. “I would think they also become suspicious when one produces a duffel bag out of thin air.”

Crowley sighed. 

“That kid was watching us,” he said, rather than taking the bait.

“Hm?”

“The kid in the library. He followed us here,” Crowley said, sitting up and walking over to the small window across from the door. He leaned against the windowsill, squinting in the sun. 

"He could be staying here as well," Aziraphale pointed out.

“Mn, yeah. But he was still following us. Wonder why.” He sighed. “What do you say to a late breakfast, angel? We can see what the rest of the town’s like,” he said. 

“Alright. How about that place down the road? I didn’t see any other restaurants on our way here.” He opened the door and Crowley crossed the room and walked out past him.

“Fine with me.”

Aziraphale locked the door behind them, and they walked out of the Lost Arms and down the street to Hungry’s, talking about nothing in particular. Moxie was sitting at the counter when they went in, typing away. Jake was leaning against the counter, reading. He put his book down on the counter as the door closed behind them.

"Welcome to Hungry's. I haven’t seen you in town before, I take it you’re new? I’m Jake, and this is Moxie,” Jake said.

“I’m Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

“What can I get for you two today?”

Crowley ambled up to the counter and sat down on one of the barstools. Aziraphale sat down next to him.

“What do you recommend?” Crowley asked.

“Well, I was just about to make some crêpes,” Jake said, turning towards the stove and glancing back questioningly over his shoulder.

“Sounds great,” Crowley said, smirking at Aziraphale.

Jake got to work, chatting with Moxie as he prepared the crêpes. Moxie drummed her fingers on the countertop impatiently, clearly itching to drown Crowley and Aziraphale with her usual barrage of questions. She kept up her end of her conversation pretty well as she looked them over curiously.

“Here you go,” Jake said, laying down three plates with a flourish.

All of the dug in, talking as they ate.

“Have you seen Snicket today?” Moxie asked. “I’ve been looking for him.”

“You know I don’t talk about my customers, Moxie,” Jake said, drying a glass. 

Moxie stared at him, and he relented.

“He came in early this morning, said he was going to the library.” He reached over and grabbed another dish to dry.

“I checked there already,” she said.

“Hm,” Jake said. “Well, wherever he is, I doubt it’s the Lost Arms. He barely ever goes there in the daytime, if he can avoid it.”

Moxie snorted. “With a chaperone like that, I don’t blame him.”

“Mm.” He opened one of the cupboards and began putting the dishes away. “Can I ask why you’re looking for him?”

“I found an article in the archives I thought he might want to take a look at,” she said. “An unusual piece about the inking industry. Cleo might want to take a look as well.”

“I’ll mention it to her.”

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale began. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. This Snicket you’re talking about- he wouldn’t happen to be a boy of, oh, about 12 would you say, Crowley?”

Crowley grunted in acknowledgement.

“Dark hair, wearing a suit?” he continued.

“Sounds like him,” Moxie said. “Why? Have you seen him today? Where was he? Did he say anything to you?” she asked, fingers poised over the keys of her typewriter. 

“He _was_ in the library,” Crowley drawled, “before he decided to follow us to that hotel.” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the Lost Arms. 

“He didn’t say anything, no.” Aziraphale added. 

“Hm.” Moxie said, looking up from her writing to stare at them. Crowley raised an eyebrow at her when she continued to scrutinize them. She looked back at her page. “You’re new in town?” she said, changing the subject.

“Just stopping by,” Crowley said. 

Jake turned around and he and Moxie locked eyes. Stain’d-by-the-Sea was most definitely not a tourist location, and the arrival of these strangers was cause for some suspicion, especially after certain recent events following Snicket’s arrival in the town. 

“Where are you from? Why did you decide to come _here_? What are you doing in town?”

Crowley frowned and looked like he was going to object rather rudely to being asked so many questions, but Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“We came from London. We came here because we needed to get away from the city. Some events at our respective workplaces necessitated our rather hasty departure.” 

Crowley sighed. “You’re being dramatic. They’ll leave us alone. For now, anyway.” He spun his barstool around so that he could lean his shoulders against the counter. He looked at Aziraphale. 

“Yes, well, I suspect they’re still watching us.”

“You just wanted to come here because-”

Moxie cut them off. “What happened at your workplaces that you had to leave so quickly?”

“It’s quite a long story, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said. “It requires around six thousand years of context.”

Crowley laughed, sharp and short. “About that, yeah.”

Moxie huffed and looked at her watch. “I should get going. I need to look for Snicket.” She snapped her typewriter case shut and stood up. “Thanks for the meal, Jake.” She turned to leave, but before she did she took a card out of the brim of her hat and handed it to Crowley. She nodded at them and left, heading towards the library and the Lost Arms. The bell above the door jingled as it shut behind her. Crowley turned the card over in his hand before giving it to Aziraphale.

“A journalist,” he said, taking the card. “I suppose that explains all the questions, then.”

Crowley laughed. “I suppose.” He paused. “Where do you want to go after this, angel?”

“Hm. You know, I didn’t see very much in the way of ‘places to visit’ on our way here. That _is_ why we chose it.”

Crowley tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“However,” Aziraphale continued, “I thought we might go back to the library at some point? If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“You and your books,” Crowley sighed. “‘Course it’s alright.” He had finished most of his food and was currently watching Aziraphale eat. “How do they hold up against the ones in France?” he teased, nodding at the crêpes.

Aziraphale glared at him, but there was no real anger behind it.

“Would you risk being discorporated-”

Aziraphale cut him off. “Do shut up,” he said fondly. 

He finished eating, and Crowley got the bill, leaving a rather large tip. His excuse was that people never liked getting large gifts for no reason as it made them uncomfortable, so really it was quite evil if you thought about it. Aziraphale was skeptical, but he didn’t argue. Just because they weren’t being controlled by Heaven and Hell anymore didn’t mean that they were suddenly fine. There was still a lot to talk about, a lot of wounds that had yet to heal. He could bring up the fact that Crowley didn’t have to be evil anymore up later. 

They stood outside the restaurant for a moment. “We could go for a walk, go back to the library later?” Crowley suggested. “Don’t want to run into those kids again.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale said. 

They began walking in the opposite direction of the library and the hotel, going nowhere in particular. Aziraphale let himself relax, just a bit. There was no one to watch them here, he thought, other than the locals. He didn’t have to worry about Heaven seeing him with Crowley, didn’t have to worry about talking to the other Angels, or about going too fast, getting too close. He was still scared, of course. Six millennia of hiding, of talking around what they wanted to say didn’t just go away overnight, much as he wished it would sometimes. But it was nice just being around Crowley. It was nice listening to him talk. He kept up a running commentary about the boarded up stores and houses they passed by, making some especially derisive remarks about Partial Foods. 

(“It’s not even a good joke!” he said, gesticulating to the rather dilapidated building in mock outrage. Aziraphale chuckled, and he couldn’t help the soft look on his face. It took him a minute to remember that he didn’t have to.)

After walking for a good while they reached the edge of the Clusterous Forest. It was an eerie sight, the wind rustling through the plants that should by all means have been underwater. They had lapsed into silence, and were currently standing next to each other, staring out across the sand. Well, Aziraphale was staring out across the sand, anyway. Crowley was staring at Aziraphale. 

“Still want to save the town?” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Aziraphale glanced at him. “You know that was never my intention.”

Crowley shrugged. “Thought you might want to. Thought you might have changed your mind.” He bit his lip, seeming to come to a decision. “It feels Evil here. There’s something…” He shook his head. 

“Spooky?” Aziraphale suggested, turning away to hide his smile.

Crowley laughed before he could stop himself. “No, I mean… there’s something supernaturally Evil. Like, I dunno, another demon or something.” Seeing Aziraphale’s look of alarm, he hurried to clarify. “‘M not saying it _is_ another demon, just… It might just be the people here. Having to leave your home, ‘s depressing. People are bound to be upset.”

Aziraphale looked slightly mollified at that. “You’ll tell me if anything changes, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

They stayed standing there for a bit longer before heading back into town, towards the library. Aziraphale told Crowley about the books he was hoping to find, and the solemn atmosphere from earlier dissipated, their conversation pushed to the back of their minds. Despite the less than ideal setting, coupled with the Evil feeling Crowley had mentioned, Aziraphale thought that it wasn’t all that bad. Crowley was there with him, after all.


End file.
